


The Universe Doesn’t Get to Take This

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:34:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28543401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: “And they’re so important that you don’t come home to check on your recently un-amnesiac brother? And here, I thought I was your favorite.”
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne
Comments: 15
Kudos: 266





	The Universe Doesn’t Get to Take This

**Author's Note:**

> A tiny fix-it to the end of Detective Comics 1033. This is a bit dark of Dick I know, but honestly as much as I love him, he does just as many shady and fucked up things as everyone else so, I can absolutely see him doing this, ngl. And because I know folks are gonna complain about it, while I absolutely and obviously see Duke in the Batfam, I don’t see him as a Bat _sib_ because last I knew of him, his parents are still 100% alive so it would be fucking bonkers for Bruce to literally adopt him. And also hella disrespectful? But I digress. Don’t come at me.

Bruce didn’t know how to deal with what he’d just heard.

Damian blamed himself for Alfred’s death. Believed it to be his fault so badly that he refused to listen to anyone around him. Refused to listen to anyone who _loved_ him. Who knew the truth. Who knew that _wasn’t_ the truth.

Damian was brilliant. How could he believe something so wrong?

Bruce wanted to argue his point. He wanted to grab Damian, maybe shake him until he saw the light. Beg him. _Plead_ with him. It wasn’t his fault. It _never_ was his fault. And that he loved him. Bruce loved him so much it _hurt_. And he knew he was messing it all up. Knew he didn’t say it enough. Show it enough. Knew Damian’s surety in this absurd falsehood was partially his fault. Mostly his fault.

(All his fault.)

But…he didn’t. He couldn’t. Damian was growing up, and they’d had this dance so many times.

(Too many times.)

He felt the weight of the badge in his utility belt, and silently pulled it out. Squeezed it in his hand.

Damian felt too tainted for this badge anymore. This honor. Bruce knew that. That’s why he’d run. That’s why he’d dramatically ripped it off and threw it to the ground. While it was still in rage and heartbreak, it was also in fear.

Because he felt he didn’t deserve it. Didn’t deserve to be Robin. Didn’t deserve to be by anyone’s side.

But he and Damian, they always danced in subtly. Could never say what they needed to. Always tiptoed around it. Used metaphors and hypotheticals instead.

Bruce squeezed the badge. Held it out between them.

“ _This_ is yours, son.”

 _You_ are _good enough. You are_ good _, period. You deserve this title, this honor, and so much more. Please come back and I will do everything I can to tell you. To_ show _you. Please._

Damian glanced at it, but only for a moment, before dropping his gaze to his feet.

“No, father.” Damian sighed sadly, turning away, already reaching for the grapple on his hip. “It’s _yours_.”

He lifted his arm to the sky and aimed the gun. Bruce’s heart stuttered. What did he do here? Did he let Damian go? Did he grab him? Did he follow him?

“…Actually, you’re both wrong.” A groggy voice from behind them hummed. Bruce tensed, afraid Tommy had somehow already woken, already escaped. He balled his hands into fists and turned, just as Damian did.

Dick came hobbling out of the rooftop’s shadow.

“Robin’s _mine_.” Dick shot them a lopsided grin. “I just lend it out every so often.”

In his periphery, Bruce saw Damian’s arm drop. “…Grayson?”

“Yeah, yeah. Long time no see, right?” Dick snorted. “And you were just going to…what? Save the day, then fly away without even saying hello to me?”

Damian’s guilty eyes dropped again.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce interjected. “The drugs…”

“Damian gave us all the antidote, it’s filtering out fine.” Dick waved off. Cleared his throat and rubbed at it once. He never took his eyes off of Damian, though. Even seem annoyed that Bruce had interrupted him. “And just where do you think you’re going in such a hurry, kid?”

“I…I have things I’m working on.” Damian mumbled, stepping back, closer to the roof’s ledge. “Places I need to go.”

“And they’re so important that you don’t come home to check on your recently un-amnesiac brother?” Dick joked. “And here, I thought I was your favorite.”

“…I…I wasn’t _aware_ , actually.” Damian admitted sheepishly. “I did not know you had recovered and were back in Gotham until Father told me on the way over here.”

“And you were still going to leave without seeing me? Rude.” Dick chuckled. “Good thing I’m good at recovering quickly, then, and was able to follow you out here.”

Damian didn’t respond to that. Kept his gaze away from the two men in front of him.

“Look, I know you’re not a hugger, but I…really freaking missed you, kid.” Dick smirked, but it was sad. He opened his arms wide, and Bruce took note of his slow sway. The drugs were still affecting him. “So can I please just have one?”

Dick stepped towards Damian, but Damian immediately jumped away.

“You…you shouldn’t want to do that.”

Dick frowned. “Why?”

“Because, as I just had to remind Father.” Damian countered. “ _I killed Alfred_.”

Dick hesitated at that. Glanced to Bruce. It was Bruce’s turn to look down now.

“…I know you believe that, but I don’t.” Dick hummed quietly. “And even if it was true, I don’t care.”

Damian closed his eyes, balled his hands into fists.

“You know I don’t care about anything you’ve done. You know I’m going to love you, regardless. I told you that _years_ ago.” He kept his arms out in front of him. “Now get your skinny little ass over here so I can hug my little brother.”

Damian’s fists silently trembled.

“I’m not asking.” Dick explained. “And if you try and run, I _will_ chase you. I’m not leaving you alone until I get my welcome home hug.”

“I don’t deserve it.” Damian whispered.

“But I do.” Dick replied, letting his smile return. “After the shit year I just had, I deserve to see my little brother, at least once. Don’t you think?”

Damian pressed his lips tightly together, but suddenly, to Bruce’s surprise, acquiesced. Stomped forward until he was in Dick’s space and engulfed in Nightwing’s arms. Returned the hug and seemed to squeeze Dick as hard as he could.

“Careful.” Dick grunted with a laugh and sluggish waver. After he regained his balance, he slowly began lowering into a crouch. He released one arm from around Damian to grab at his lower back, like it was in pain. “I’ve still got some of Hush’s stupid drug in here, kiddo. So I’m not the steadiest still.”

“Sorry.” Damian breathed. Bruce wasn’t sure, couldn’t see his face, but Damian’s voice sounded watery. Tearful. “I’m so sorry, Grayson.”

He wasn’t just apologizing for Dick’s balance, they all knew that instantly.

“Don’t be.” Dick murmured into his hair. Suddenly, he glanced seriously up at Bruce. “Because I’m not.”

Before Damian or Bruce could question him, the hand Dick had at his tailbone swung back around, something glinting between his fingers. Bruce only recognized it as a needle as Dick plunged it into the back of Damian’s neck.

“What the…!” Damian tried to pull away, but Dick didn’t let him. Kept Damian’s face tight to his throat as he pushed the syringe’s contents into Damian’s system, then dropped the needle and held Damian in both arms as the boy struggled. “Grayson, what did you…!”

Bruce stepped forward, but when Dick looked up at him again, it was with a furious glare.

“…What the hell did you just do?” Bruce demanded, as Damian’s movements suddenly started to become sluggish, lazy, his fiery curses slurred. Dick just shifted a hand to hold the back of Damian’s head protectively.

“A sedative.” Dick said simply. He waited calmly, never letting up his grip, not even when Damian went limp against him. “I’m bringing him home.”

Dick’s back was never in pain, Bruce realized. He was reaching into his own belt for the drug, after he was sure Damian was close enough. Bruce reached his hand out, but once again wasn’t sure what to say. What to _do_. “…Dick…”

“I’m not losing him again.” Dick snapped, staring angrily up at him. “Do you know how many times I already _have_? I can’t. I’m not. I _won’t_.”

“He was leaving. He had made his own choice to leave.” Bruce countered. “We can’t…we can’t hold him against his will.”

“He’s also fucking _thirteen_ , Bruce.” Dick hissed. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

“He…he wants space. He _needs_ space.” Bruce tried.

“He needs _help_ , B.” Dick countered desperately. “And he’s not going to get that being out there on his own.” Dick sighed, slumping a little. Let Damian’s unconscious face loll to the side so they could both see it. “I…I get what you’re trying to do. He wanted space and you’re trying to respect that. Respect _him_.” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “But, Bruce. He’s thirteen, he’s traumatized and he’s alone.”

Bruce stepped forward, let his cape waft around his sons in the wind.

“We can’t let him be alone anymore. We can’t let him run off and not go after him. What do you think he believes when that happens? Does he think we hate him? Does he think all the terrible things anyone has ever said about him are true?” Dick whispered, running his knuckles along Damian’s face. “…Call it kidnapping or holding him hostage or whatever you want. I don’t care.”

Dick pulled Damian back up, pressed his cheek to Damian’s forehead.

“I’m not losing him again.” Dick repeated, his voice shaky. “I am _not_ losing him again.”

Bruce watched them for a moment, watched as Dick began to gently rock, like Damian was an infant in his arms. He sighed, and glanced up towards the smog-infested purple night skies of Gotham City.

“He’ll be furious when he wakes up.” Bruce mumbled.

“Great.” Dick sniffed bitterly. “As long as he’s alive and home and with his _family_ , he can hate me as much as he wants.”

Bruce closed his eyes, let himself breathe for a moment. Then lowered his head and stared at Dick.

“…Do you need help carrying him?” He asked softly. “Tommy’s drugs…”

“I can carry him to the car.” Dick threw Bruce a small smile. “Anything further than that might be a little dodgy.”

“Okay.” Bruce grunted, pressing a button on the side of his cowl to call the Batmobile. “Can I help you up, at least?”

“That’d be great, actually.” Dick admitted. “I just need help getting my feet under me, then I should be good.”

Bruce leaned down, gripping Dick’s biceps as he stumbled to his feet and simultaneously switched his hold on Damian so he was lying across his forearms. The forgotten grapple Damian had been holding tumbled from his fingers.

“…B?” Dick asked as Bruce began to usher him back into the building and down the stairs to where the rest of the family was still recovering.

“Hm?”

“Can you call Tim? Get him to come home, too? I haven’t seen him much since I remembered…” Dick trailed off, and Bruce sensed the sadness in Dick’s whole being. “I mean, Cassie and Jay are here, but…” A bitter laugh. “Call me selfish but I want all my siblings here.” A moment. “I want my whole family home.” He closed his eyes and leaned into Bruce’s side. “We’ve all been through so much _shit_ lately, and I…I just want us to be all together again. If we can be.”

Bruce glanced down at him, and felt himself smiling, just a little. Allowed himself that tiny bit.

“Of course.” He promised. Then, in a mockery of what Dick had said earlier. “You deserve that much.”

Dick opened his eyes and glanced down to Damian, leaned peacefully against his chest. Dick laughed a little, as they entered the room where the rest of the family was, when Duke called out to them and gave a lethargic wave.

“Yeah.” Dick whispered, staring down at Damian’s face. “I think I do.”


End file.
